


Ted's Most Excellent Mixtape, No. 13

by bigfeetbiggersocks



Category: Bill & Ted (Movies)
Genre: Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Mixtape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:48:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28025757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigfeetbiggersocks/pseuds/bigfeetbiggersocks
Summary: The sweet melody of "You Really Got Me" is drifting through the air, and Ted finds himself humming along. He imagines hearing it from the radio of Bill's (Missy's) car as the two of them speed off to who-knows-where, free of homework and Ted's dad and all other sources of stress. They'd spend a weekend in a big city and go to concerts every night, drowning all their troubles in music. If Ted really lets his thoughts go wild he can imagine Bill placing a hand on the curve of his jaw at one of those concerts, tugging Ted towards him. Maybe his other hand would come to rest on Ted's hip and maybe his chest would be flush against Ted's. And maybe, just maybe, he would lean in, looking up at Ted from under his eyelashes, and say -"Ted, dude!" Ted's daydream shatters at the sound of Bill shouting from the other side of the door. He knocks, loudly, and shouts again. "Can I come in?"
Relationships: Ted "Theodore" Logan & Bill S. Preston Esq., Ted "Theodore" Logan/Bill S. Preston Esq.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 71





	Ted's Most Excellent Mixtape, No. 13

There's a lot going on in Ted's head right now. So many thoughts swirling together in the start of a wicked tornado, destroying all the neatly organized sections of his mind. If he closes his eyes and focuses really hard he can reach a hand out and grab some of the stray phrases, half-formed thoughts about the song, or peanut butter, or how pretty Bill's hair is. 

Ted tends to make mixtapes when he gets overwhelmed like this. 

They're never that great of mixtapes, and the central theme of them caters almost exclusively to Ted and his inner turmoil (sometimes Bill says he understands the vibe, but that's only when Ted chooses to show him them), but they definitely help him sort through his thoughts.

Today is a tape-making kind of day, and Ted finds himself buried in a pile of music, all his favorite albums and singles scattered across the floor. He has a blank cassette in one hand and a bright blue sharpie in the other, quickly scribbling down a title. 

"Ted's Most Excellent Mixtape, No. 13" 

He adds a couple crooked doodles of lightning bolts and smiley faces, and one very very poorly drawn horse's head, before tossing the sharpie behind him, not really caring where it lands. 

He starts sifting through his music collection, reading over the small list of songs on the back of each album, evaluating each piece before deciding whether to add it or put it back down next to him. His hands are shaking the whole time, body alive with so much energy, determined to channel it into a truly non-heinous tape. 

Ted isn't even sure what he's thinking about this time, just that his mind is on fire and he's got to use the music to put it out. 

The sun has just started to set by the time Ted's finished, and he can hear his dad calling him for dinner. He holds the cassette up with pride, admiring it for a moment before placing it on his bedside table. He races down the stairs without bothering to clean up the mess of music, too overjoyed to care.

He listens to the tape for the first time later that night. It's fully dark now, and Ted could probably see the stars if he bothered looking. He inserts the tape into his walkman and slides the headphones over his ears, buzzing with excitement. He's rocking back and forth slightly from his spot in the corner of his room, and he can feel the tips of his fingers shaking. He presses play.

And oh.

He doesn't remember starting off with such a sappy song. But it's okay, Ted thinks, he'll just skip to the next one.

The next one is just as bad. And the next. And the next. And the next. Ted managed to make a disgustingly lovey-dovey mix without even realizing it. 

He sighs, slightly disappointed, and takes the tape out, returning it to his bedside table. He opens a drawer and shuffles through the couple of loose cassettes he keeps there, emergency go-tos in case nothing else was doing it for him. 

He settles on one he and Bill made together last summer and listens to it until his eyes drop heavy and his brain shuts down. He wakes up the next morning with the wire tangled in his hair and the walkman still in his hand.

Ted gives "Ted's Most Excellent Mixtape, no. 13" another try that weekend.

Bill has to go to some family dinner with his aunt that night, leaving Ted bored and alone. There isn't much for him to do, his homework is already finished and song writing isn't fun without Bill, so he decides to dig around his room looking for a mixtape to listen to.

He's not in a very specific mood right now, so most of the tapes he finds get discarded before he could read over the track list. They're all too sad, or angry, or emotional for Ted. 

He tosses aside one last mixtape before remembering the sappy tape he made a couple of days ago. He never really gave it a try and, since he doesn't have anything better to do, it probably wouldn't kill him to listen to it in its entirety. He did spend the time making it, afterall.

So Ted pops the tape into his cassette player and flops backwards on his bed, taking in the music raw and free of distraction.

It's kind of good.

Yeah, it's sickly sweet and focused on feelings Ted doesn't think he's ever experienced, but it isn't a bad mixtape. It has Van Halen, and Queen, and a touch of David Bowie, and Ted finds himself tapping his fingers along to the beat of each song. 

He starts listening to the mixtape in the mornings before school, humming along to the music gently playing from his walkman as he brushes his teeth and ties his shoes. Ted's dad scolds him sometimes for indulging in so much music instead of being productive and focusing solely on his morning routine, but Ted's so used to his criticism that it doesn't matter. 

Sometimes Ted gets so lost in the music that he forgets he's wearing the headphones on his way to school. He'd hop in the passanger's seat of the car Bill borrows from Missy, his head still bouncing along to the beat of whatever song is playing. Bill usually taps him on the shoulder, catching Ted's attention, and smiles at him in a silent request for him to share the music. Ted always obliges, smiling back at Bill as he pops the tape out of the walkman and into the car's center console. 

"Dude, you've been listening to this same mix for like a week now. What's so good about it?" Bill asks while they're driving to school one morning. 

Ted feels a small wave of heat hit his cheeks, and he ducks his face behind his bangs. "Oh, it's just something I made a while ago. It's not like special or anything." 

"You sure, dude? It's pretty romantic." 

Ted almost yelps in response. He has no idea why he's so embarased right now, just that he is, and that there's something so scary about Bill questioning this particular tape. He gulps.

"Is it about a girl?" Bill teases and turns towards Ted, smirking. Ted thinks his cheeks must look like tomatoes by now.

"No. It's not about a girl, dude." 

"Oh. That's cool, dude." 

Ted starts switching to another tape whenever he has to ride with Bill.

It isn't that he's ashamed of the sappy one, but he doesn't really want Bill listening to it anymore. He'd rather share a best of Van Halen mix or a "Songs we Should Totally Learn When we can Play Guitar" mix with Bill. 

He still listens to the other tape though, in the quiet of the early morning, or in the dark cover of the night. Sometimes it makes him think of Bill.

They're passing thoughts, images of Bill's gentle smile or the distant feeling of his hand on Ted's shoulder. They've become so interwoven with the music itself, and if Ted squeezes his eyes shut while he listens to it he can almost pretend that Bill's there with him, body pressed so close that Ted can feel him bouncing his leg in time with the beat. Ted closes his eyes and imagines more often than he'd like to admit.

He knows that Bill wouldn't be able to see Ted's fantasies if he heard the tape again, that, no matter how close they are, Bill can't peer into Ted's mind like that, but there's always a chance that maybe he can. A chance that Bill will hear Queen's "You're my Best Friend" and know. He'll know what Ted daydreams about during the late hours of the night, and he'll be disgusted. He'll be upset, and his nose will scrunch up all gross and weird and he'll call Ted gay and-

Oh. Oh shit. Ted has been acting kind of gay hasn't he? 

Oh shit. Ted's always acted kind of gay hasn't he? Every lingering brush of his hand against Bill's, every Polaroid of Bill he's spent hours staring at, every mixtape he's made specifically for Bill. None of that is normal, platonic, just best friends behavior. 

Ted's limbs are shaking and his head is spinning. He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes and groans, sinking deeper into his mattress. 

The next time he listens to the tape he imagines carding his fingers through Bill's hair, tracing along each of his curls. The time after that is spent sorting through all the memories he has of Bill holding his hand. He thinks about the warm press of their palms, and the slight tickle of Bill's fingertips against his knuckles. 

He lets himself indulge in the following fantasy, cranking the music up as loud as possible and slipping his eyes shut. He's alone; His dad is out shopping and Deacon is at a friend's, and Ted can't be more grateful. 

The sweet melody of "You Really Got Me" is drifting through the air, and Ted finds himself humming along. He imagines hearing it from the radio of Bill's (Missy's) car as the two of them speed off to who-knows-where, free of homework and Ted's dad and all other sources of stress. They'd spend a weekend in a big city and go to concerts every night, drowning all their troubles in music. If Ted really lets his thoughts go wild he can imagine Bill placing a hand on the curve of his jaw at one of those concerts, tugging Ted towards him. Maybe his other hand would come to rest on Ted's hip and maybe his chest would be flush against Ted's. And maybe, just maybe, he would lean in, looking up at Ted from under his eyelashes, and say -

"Ted, dude!" Ted's daydream shatters at the sound of Bill shouting from the other side of the door. He knocks, loudly, and shouts again. "Can I come in?" 

Ted practically sprints to the cassette player, shutting it off with more force than he thought he had in him, and opens the door, coming face to face with Bill. He's sure his cheeks are flushed and his hands are shaking, but there isn't much he can do about it now. 

"What's up?" His voice cracks slightly as he asks the question, and he knows it gives his nervousness away. 

"Are you okay, dude?" 

"Yeah, yeah, of course. Why wouldn't I be okay?" 

"You're acting kind of weird. Are you sure something's not up with you, Ted?" He places a hand on Ted's shoulder and Ted jerks away immediately. He regrets it afterwards, because Bill looks so guilty, and the expression makes Ted's stomach churn.

"Is it me, dude? Did I do something?" His voice is dripping with dejection and it tears Ted's heart in half. 

"No! No, way! It's not you; It's me, dude." Ted takes a deep breath, collecting himself. "I think I might be you know," He leans in closer, whispering the next part. "gay." 

"Oh," It takes Bill a moment to process Ted's words before breaking into a wide smile. "Me too, dude!" 

"Excellent!" They air guitar together, and Ted feels as if a huge weight has been lifted off of his chest. 

"Wait, Ted. That mixtape you've been like obsessed with. Is it about a dude?" 

Nevermind. The weight is back. 

"Uh, yeah. It's about a dude." He gulps and runs his palms down the length of his pants. 

"No way! Who is it?" Bill shoves his shoulder playfully, the smile back on his face. 

Ted's brain is running a mile a minute, and there's a tornado of ideas in the center of it. He's never been good at lying to Bill, but he can't just come out and tell him something as massive as this. It could ruin their friendship. 

"You don't really know him." Ted blurts out, and Bill raises an eyebrow, confusion written across his face.

"I thought all our friends were, uh, moo-tual? How do you know him, dude?" 

Ted doesn't think his cheeks can flush any hotter. He tangles his fingers into his hair and tugs slightly. He hates lying to Bill so much. 

Bill reaches out again, slower and more cautious than the last time, and Ted loses it.

"It's you, dude! The tape is about you!" 

Bill's hand stills on Ted's arm and his cheeks turn bright red. He does nothing but stare at Ted for a solid couple of minutes.

"Bill, dude. Are you okay?" 

Bill shakes his head, snapping out his daze, and smiles. "You mean it?"

"Mean what?"

"You made the playlist about me?" 

Ted's silent as he nods, slow and uncertain. Bill's smile grows and he brings a hand upwards, cupping Ted's face. 

"Would it be okay if I kissed you, dude?" 

Ted nods again, much faster and messier this time, and Bill presses their lips together, his laughter tickling Ted. Ted can't help but burst out laughing too and soon the both of them are just huddled close together in the doorway of Ted's room, their lips brushing in between their giggles. Ted's heart has never felt so full. 

"Ted, dude." 

"Yeah, Bill?"

"You wanna show me that playlist again? Maybe we can sorta listen to it together?" 

Ted laughs and kisses Bill again. "That's gay, dude."

"You're gay, dude!" 

"You're gayer!"

"How am I gayer?"

"You kissed me! That's most gay, duder!" 

Bill's cheeks are still red now, more so from laughter than embarrassment, and his smile is so wide that Ted thinks it might reach his ears soon. 

"Yeah, okay, but you kissed me back. Everybody knows that that's gayer." 

Ted's laughing too, loud and unabashed. He leans back in, joining their lips together again, and he doesn't think he'll ever get enough of kissing Bill.

"Dude, the tape." Bill says as they seperate, and Ted reluctantly steps away from him. His skin feels cold from the sudden lack of contact, but the knowledge that he'll get to touch and hold and kiss Bill again so soon keeps him from diving right back in.

He turns the cassette player on again, lowering the volume so that he can hear Bill speak, and finds a spot next to Bill on his bed.

He feels Bill place a hand on his thigh and he doesn't need any prompting before placing his own on top of Bill's, interlocking their fingers.

Ted's already got a few ideas for his next mixtape, and this time he knows exactly who it's going to be about.

**Author's Note:**

> hey !!! this was kind of a rewrite of an older fic that I deleted called say it in a song. i didn't rly fw that fic too much n I like this one a lot more so I hope you guys enjoy it too !!! sorry for my little writing hiatus. happy to be back though lmao:))


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